Groaning Humor
Recent research shows that there are 7 kinds of sex:
The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex.
This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both have sex until you are blue in the face.
The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a short time
and you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a long time.
Your sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.
The 4th kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you
pass each other in the hallway you both say “screw you.”
The 5th kind of sex is called: Religious Sex
This means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the afternoon and
Nun at night.
The 6th kind is called Courtroom Sex.
This is when you cannot stand your wife any more. She takes you to
court and screws you in front of everyone.
And last, but not least…
The 7th kind of sex is called: Social Security Sex.
You get a little each month. But not enough to live on.
(Emailed to me months ago, but last seen on Mens Divorce Blog...)posted by Unknown at
9:29 AM
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1 Comments:
I had a weird dream a couple of days ago about my ex.
I went down to my old house, seems to me she had invited me. Walking in, I found all the walls had been painted off-white.
Crossing the lounge room to the kitchen, she was standing across the room. I sat -- my usual position when we were "going to talk something over": sitting while she stands over me.
We tried to talk about one issue, and she ended up teary-eyed, angry and frustrated, .. her expression reflecting the painful confused emotions in both of us.
Another issue, and the same results.
Finally, I rose to leave.
When I left, I found she had concreted over the whole yard; something she had planned to do when we were together.
The grass was gone; there was a concrete driveway dug down to the backyard on one side. No place for grass. The fruit trees her younger son and I gave her for her Mothers' Day were gone. The area that would have been our garden was buried under new concrete.
All I could do was stand there and stare; my gut wrenching, with tears in my eyes.
I remember her face. Her face was wrinkled like an old woman.
I had often told her that even though she was growing older, I saw her through the eyes of love. I had to look to see the small lines and other signs of aging.
When we were together, I told her I only saw this fresh-faced school girl -- that I'd really never known.
Strange how love affects my mind.
What's the point of living in the suburbs if you're just going to cover everything in concrete?
I woke up in the same streaming tears that had been with me for over a year.
My mind roamed a bit around ideas of her need to control -- even if it meant concreting everything.
I have to admit at times I wonder where she's gone. I know she had a new boyfriend long before. She was seeing him (or someone) even when I was in surgery.
I'd been told that she'd have someone else lined up...
She may be the Past, but my feelings are still my own. It's sad to see how little love matters to some.
PD
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Unknown, at 9:53 AM
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